The Sound of White
by mysticflakes
Summary: This was no white lie. "Yeah, you aren't important." [Written for The Writing Game by geekinthepink23]


The Sound of White

**A/N: One-shot written for The Writing Game by geekinthepink23. All the best to the other contestants! **

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ace of Diamond.**

* * *

_"No!"_

The cry tore from his throat as his eyes sprung open, spidery webs of red veins connecting from his iris to under his lids. Something hot - a liquid of some sorts - streaked down from the corner of his eye and splashed on his pillow case, a dark spot forming on the white. He laid there, eyes wide and uncomprehending, mouth slightly open as he stared up at the ceiling.

The darkness made him feel blind; and the fuzziness of the entire room made him blink again. He should go switch on the lights - oh yes, he needed to call Miyuki. He stumbled off the bed in his haste and his fingers grappled for his phone by his side table. Fingers curling around a cold metal, he picked it up and flipped it open. Damn, the light was too bright. He whistled a bit as he poured some water into his cup and squinted at the screen as he scrolled past a missed call from Kuramochi and clicked on an unopened message from Miyuki:

_15th Nov_

_9:43 PM_

_Baka, do you even know the real meaning of it? Go check the dictionary, idiot. But then again, if you_ do_ do that, if I were dead, I'd even rise up from my grave to hear you! Haha! _

_P.S. It's about time you notice the contact name, hm?_

Sawamura's brows knitted together in confusion and he scrolled back up to see what exactly Miyuki is -

_Master Miyuki _

"What the - ?!" Sawamura spluttered on his water upon seeing the contact name. He wheezed and coughed to get the liquid out of his windpipe, slapping himself hard on the chest. "Miyuki, you asshole! Stop messing around with my phone!"

A scowl twisted on the pitcher's face as he returned back to reading his message.

_I bet you just checked, stupid. Haha! _The corner of his lips twitched up, though he tried to remain the angry frown. _Anyway, I'm gonna be back soon. Maybe you can try warming my bed for the surprise, hm? _

The phone clattered on the floor as Sawamura glared at the offensive piece of device. "Miyuki, you fucking pervert! I'll change your name to something else, just you wait!"

Grumbling some more, he bent down to pick the device back up and slid it into his pocket. The conversation had continued after his nap; they had been talking about romantic inclinations and Miyuki had commented that Sawamura didn't strike him as the romantic type. Hmph! Like Miyuki was any better..

Except for the time when he covered him with a blanket when the catcher thought he was sleeping. And for the time when Miyuki bought him a new baseball that he had wanted for a very long time. And for the time when Miyuki held his hand and declared that they were dating.

Were those actually counted as romantic? He scratched his head in mild confusion, then shrugged, though he could feel his cheeks heating up at the mention of those memories - Miyuki could never know how he felt about them. Placing the cup on his bedside table, he knelt down to search underneath his bed; he had tried learning to play a guitar - he learnt that serenading was one of the most romantic things you can actually do, and he thought he played it pretty well.

Unzipping the instrument he had borrowed from the music faculty, he flopped the black case up, fingers running over the sleek, smooth surface. It looked so beautiful; the guitar was a midnight black and it glinted against the moonlight from the open window. He didn't know that guitars can be black in color, initially. When the guys knew he was going to make his first attempt at serenading, they were awfully enthusiastic and had wanted to find one of the best beginner guitars there - something called Seagull S6 - but they found that this was the only one left.

Sawamura didn't mind; it was fortunate enough that they lent him an instrument. He drummed his fingers over the strings tentatively, testing out the chords he learnt only recently. The song he had chosen to play was not the most romantic, honestly - it was unsuitable for a lover's serenade, but it meant a lot to both of them. It was the one song that brought them together and he knew Miyuki would get what he meant.

_Click._

Sawamura looked up from the guitar and a silhouette was apparent at the doorway. The figure pushed the door open and the cap and hoodie were evident even in the dark.

"Miyuki?"

The figure turned to look in his direction and for a moment, Sawamura felt his skin prickle - only Miyuki had the key to his dormitory. Who was he?

Silence.

Then the figure pounced on him, and a scream tore from his throat. A familiar hand clamped down on his mouth and he stopped struggling, eyes wide with fright.

"Haha!"

Feeling a scowl twisting on his face, he pushed the laughing Miyuki off him, "Must you? Seriously, Miyuki!"

"Haha! You should've seen your face! Eh - " The catcher's amused chuckles were cut off when he caught sight of the instrument in Sawamura's hands. "Sawamura - that guitar - "

"You complained about my lack of - " Sawamura felt his face heat up and couldn't complete his sentence, looking away from Miyuki's face. It was honestly, quite embarrassing. He coughed into his fist awkwardly, then gestured to the bed. "Go sit down, bastard." The last part was unnecessary, but it was too late to take it back.

Miyuki did.

Sawamura stared at him in mild surprise. He had expected more teasing from him, yet he remained strangely docile. Miyuki's eyes were unlike any other times he had seen them to be; his dark brown eyes with the little grey specks were on him tensely, and the lips that were usually in a seemingly permanent smirk had a curl on both sides.

Miyuki was _smiling. _Albeit a small one, but it was still one, all right.

The pitcher wondered if he even knew that, but he decided that he better not alert Miyuki to it. That idiot probably didn't know - he was always calling him one, but Sawamura doubted that he knew that getting together with an idiot was just as dumb, if that was what he meant. Though he couldn't deny that those little curls on the corners of his lips were endearing and he couldn't help but gape at them for a while longer..

"What the hell, idiot?" Miyuki said after a moment, "you're just staring at me. I know I'm handsome, but concentrate, would you?"

He was about to retort when the catcher's fingers ran through Sawamura's mass of brown hair, ruffling it affectionately, "Ne, Sawamura, play it."

He felt a grin stretching on his face as he looked at Miyuki's expectant face, then the latter pulled his fingers away from his head and propped his chin on his hands. Sawamura nodded, and he strummed the chords once more for reassurance.

Taking a deep breath, he plucked the first chord, then his eyes darted to the fretboard, and the notes came flowing through the strings. Looking up from the black, sleek instrument, he looked at Miyuki whose eyes were already closed as his well-rehearsed fingers played the melody.

Then he opened his mouth to sing. Miyuki's shoulders stiffened when he heard the lyrics, eyes fluttering open. He stayed at his spot on the bed for a moment, then inched closer to his pitcher, clenching his fists by his sides before he leaned his head on the other's sturdy shoulders. Sawamura's breath caught in his throat for a moment, his gut tightening, albeit not uncomfortably, but he continued to play on as if that uncharacteristic move hadn't took him off-guard.

"_Promise to take me to before you went away if only for a day._" Sawamura's melodious voice resonated in the dark room as the chords on the guitar strung out their slow, soft beats. A warm liquid streaked down from the corner of his eye and his vision blurred when he looked down for the string to place his finger on - shit, where was it - shit - shit - another liquid splashed down onto the wooden guitar and slid down the smooth surface. His finger slipped and the flat note rang out in the silence. He winced. _  
_

Miyuki didn't budge from his position. "Play properly, bakamura," he whispered. Sawamura nodded, wiping his tears on his sleeve clumsily, then carried on where he left off.

But he had already lost his composure; his fingers trembled as they strummed the notes, making the melody unsteady and punctuating the song with small sniffs. Why was he crying? Miyuki was here with him, right? He had to get himself back together. That bastard was going to be fine. He was going to be fine. Yes, he was - The next moment, the guitar was out of his grasp and in Miyuki's.

Miyuki's spectacles glinted as he grinned at him deviously. He felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight. "Sawamura, I bet I can play better than you."

His fingers stroked the hard strings confidently, then his fingers strummed the first chord - unsuccessfully. "Ouch!" The guitar was now only gripped on by his left hand as he checked the cut on his finger.

Sawamura couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Haha! Miyuki, you've never played a guitar before, have you?"

The catcher growled at him and was about to try again, but Sawamura had already snatched the instrument off his hands. "Let me see your hands." Miyuki's brows twitched - a sign of him getting annoyed, but he didn't care. He knew that the stubborn catcher hated people babying him, but what else could he do when he had injured himself?

He pried the clenched fingers of his right hand off with much effort. There was a thin line of red slashed across his middle finger. Sawamura tsk-ed as he moved away from the catcher to find some ointment and a plaster, but Miyuki caught his wrist. Warmth tingled on the region and he turned his head back to see him staring up at him.

"Stay beside me, Eijun."

He didn't know what made him do as he said: the name he called him by, or the pleading look in his eyes. Maybe it was both. "What? Don't you want to get it treated? Your hands are important, you know."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then he stretched his hand towards Sawamura, "Suck it off."

His mouth dropped open as he stared at the catcher, whose lips was tugging up to a usual smirk. "Didn't you want to treat it?"

"That's - that's - _disgusting!"_ He exclaimed, smacking him on the outstretched hand. "You're a pervert!"

Miyuki grinned, showing his white teeth in the darkness. "Thanks!"

"It wasn't a compliment!"

Sawamura grumbled, then pulled Miyuki's hand towards him. The catcher's eyes widened by a fraction, looking as if he was about to question him, but snapped his mouth shut after a second. Red flaming his cheeks, his lips hovered dangerously close to the wound as he stared at him. Miyuki's grin was long gone by now, and his eyes seemed to darken as a bead of sweat formed on the side of his forehead and trailed down to his chin. Sawamura's heart was slamming so hard against his ribs he thought Miyuki would hear him, and just as his tongue darted out from between his lips, Miyuki snatched his finger away.

"It was a joke, idiot."

His voice was tight, terse.

Sawamura's heart plummeted and his gut twisted uncomfortably; as he opened his mouth to apologize, though he had no idea for _what, _Miyuki was pushing him down on the bed, and the guitar laid by their sides, forgotten. Their legs brushed against each other as the catcher's knee nudged itself between them and his hands trapped him on both sides of his head so he couldn't look away. His face was so close, so _close,_ that he could see his own face reflected in Miyuki's eyes.

"Mi - Miyuki," he managed to say, scared that he would break the moment by talking too loudly; the coil in his chest was tightening around his heart as he stared back up at Miyuki, the heaviness in his chest refusing to subside.

"Shh," the bespectacled teen hushed him, his lips barely opening even as he spoke. His hands were caressing the side of his face, the warmth radiating through his gentle touch. Sawamura felt his throat constrict and let out a haphazard sob without meaning to - the catcher's fingers froze on the smooth contours, then he laughed.

It was a laugh he had never heard before: raspy, rough and choppy. Then he collapsed next to Sawamura, lacing their fingers together, "Goodnight, Eijun." His eyes were already closed and chills ran up his spine when he spotted a tear streaking down from his closed lids.

His heart twisted and clenched, but he didn't point it out. He wasn't that stupid to break the peaceful moment that he knew the catcher probably needed. "Goodnight, Miyuki." His voice cracked at his name and he barely held back a wince. It didn't matter, though. He had Miyuki here with him and he was sure he probably didn't mind his antics.

He snuggled himself into his embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of his body wash as his hands fisted the front of his hoodie. Another moment passed before arms circled around Sawamura's waist and pulled him closer.

* * *

"Ugh," Sawamura winced as he sat up on his bed. It felt as if someone was pounding his head from the inside with a metal hammer. "Miyuki?"

When no answer came, he scrambled up from the covers and almost fell head-first to the cold, marble floor. "Miyuki! Where are you?" The space beside him seemed as if no one was there previously. Where had he gone? "Oh, God, _Miyuki!"_

His voice broke at the end, but he didn't care. His hands swiped repeatedly over the bed he slept on the night before, desperately trying to seek some warmth; some comfort. Amidst the hot tears running down his cheeks, his loud sniffles and the pain that was intensifying in his chest, the cheery tune of his phone broke through his concentration. Fingers cold and trembling, he grappled for the phone that was a few inches away from him and flipped it open.

_17th November_

_MIYUKI'S BIRTHDAY!_

He stared at the display screen, tears blurring his vision again as he hugged the device close to his chest, not bothering to stop the tune he often thought was annoying. He didn't even bother to wipe the snot that was running from his nose as he stayed in that position, begging, pleading, for something he couldn't possibly have. "Please, oh God, _please."_

He didn't know how long the alarm had been ringing as he crouched by his bed, but it must have been long enough to alert someone.

The door to his room slammed open, and Kuramochi stalked in. He stood at the door when he saw the state that Sawamura was in: both arms around himself, a sobbing mess as his body trembled on the cold, hard floor.

"Fuck, Sawamura! Wake up!" Kuramochi yelled, rushing over and shaking the incoherent pitcher roughly.

_I want Miyuki back. I want Miyuki back. I want Miyuki back. I want -_

Sharp pain shot up from his chin as he crashed into his bedside table; a resounding clink echoing in the room as the cup fell and spilled its contents on the floor. He laid there, frozen, before he realized that he had been punched.

"Sawamura, I'm sorry, but I had to do that."

He refused to make eye contact with his senior, pulling himself into a defensive huddle, rocking himself to and fro, "No, no, leave me alone. I'm fine. He's fine. He was here yesterday." Frustrated tears filled Kuramochi's eyes and he blinked them away; "Sawamura," he started gently, hands on his shoulders. The brown-haired teen looked up at him, eyes watery as his bottom lip trembled, as if begging him for more time.

Kuramochi muttered under his breath, "Fuck it."

He gathered the broken pitcher into his arms, closed his eyes and wept.

* * *

Sawamura's fingers gripped the wooden ledge of the bench in front of him hard, eyes swollen and dry. He blinked once to try to get rid of the discomfort. He felt hollow, empty, as he gazed at the smirking photo of Kazuya Miyuki.

His gut twisted, and his eyes clenched shut. He blocked out the noise from his surroundings, and he could almost hear Miyuki's laughter in his ears. The sound he once thought was both annoying and endearing weakened his knees, and he dropped down on his caps, folding his hands in front of him. He took in a shuddering breath, opened his mouth, and sang,

"_But if I never fell again, at least that nothingness _

_Will end the painful dream, of you and me."_

His voice trembled, raspy and breathless, as he struggled to finish the lines without crying. He kneeled there, shoulders shaking and heaving, trying to hold back his sobs.

He failed, just as Miyuki had lied. Ignoring the sharp pain that shot up from his bandaged middle finger, ignoring the strange looks that people were shooting him, ignoring the phantom-like sensation of fingers ruffling his hair, he turned away from protests of the crowd.

"Get that rude boy back in here!"

"Does he understand that a service cannot be interrupted?"

"Miyuki mustn't be very important to him."

Slamming the doors of the church behind him, his hands clenched into fists as he declared to the wide, blue sky, "Yeah, you aren't important."

* * *

**A/N: First time writing such a one-shot.**

**Honestly, this wasn't the idea I had intended to write for this contest - but it got into me so I wrote this instead. Hope you guys enjoyed this and good luck to the other contestants who entered this! I can't wait to read them!**

**SONG CREDITS: **

**Title: The Sound of White**

**Sang by: Missy Higgins**

**(A beautiful song - do check it out!)**

**Cheers,**

**mysticflakes**


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